


As luck would have it

by imconfusedandgay



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz Pitch - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Simon Snow - Freeform, SnowBaz, carry on, events still apply in the actual book, penelope bunce - Freeform, rainbow rowell, snowbaz fluff, this is an old fic but eh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 12:19:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14894522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imconfusedandgay/pseuds/imconfusedandgay
Summary: Simon Snow does not know how lucky he is.





	As luck would have it

She ran. she ran so much, so fast. Her knees were throbbing so severely, she was afraid they might disconnect from the rest of her limbs. It was like everything lost meaning, every definition and motive, all gone to her. and this was her only purpose. this right here. The running and the escaping. and the tiny little ounce of hope she carried with her, like a narrow light beaming in her chest. still, at the back of her mind, there was always that voice, that damnable voice that reeked of fear. That voice said “This is the part where it all ends in flames.”

She couldn’t tell if it was her own voice. couldn’t tell if it were his. She turned a corner and nearly tripped on the jagged rocks. Every breath seemed impossible, incoherent. Her head was pounding, aching. numb. her arms wanted to give in, to let go. she didn’t allow anything of that sort. She ran. She didn’t know how. She didn’t know how it was possible. Her magic could be carrying her every step with some abstract energy, maybe. thats possible right? The last tendrils of her magic, at least, because she was so certain she gave all of it away.

Trees were fading past her, the ground tumbled beneath her. She did not think about the man chasing after her, did not think of the bare future laid before her. she did not think of anything else besides the baby in her arms. He wailed, a heavy shrieking noise. his tiny arms were reaching for her face, fists unclenching, clenching. reaching, always reaching. She would never let go. she didn’t allow anything of that sort. this promise would carry her in her solemn grave. This promise, she thought, is the only thing that could keep my son alive. And maybe this was why she ran.

-

 

“Simon, Im home." Simon sprang to the living room, all giddy and vivacious ecstasy radiating off of him. He’s smiling that amiable smile of his. Baz raised an eyebrow. "What?” Despite himself, he mirrored simon’s smile, that same easy and lively light aglow in both their faces. still, Baz felt his face linger in bemusement. And still, simon wouldn’t say a thing except high squeals, tugging on Baz’s sleeve like a five year old. Baz didn’t mind. “Alright, Simon, whats going on?” Simon then fished for something in his jeans pocket, retrieving what seems like a plain white sheet of folded paper. He passed it to Baz with excited hands. Baz took the sheet of paper with a confused glance. He gently unfolded it.

_July 19, 2017_

_Dear Simon Snow, We are pleased to notify you that, of the many proposals we received, we have selected your portrait ‘petite étoile’ , Your response to the RFP issued by Cambridge Art Association stood head and shoulders above the rest. We are looking forward to moving forward with the installation. Thank you._

Baz blinked at the words. He read it again just to make sure. and again. He looked at Simon. Simon, seeing the stupefy and awed expression in his boyfriends face, squealed, “I KNOW!” Baz hugged him in response, smoothing out his bronze curls, kissing his forehead, taking his face on both his hands and nuzzling his nose with his because he’s a fucking tragedy when it comes to Simon Snow and both of them know it. “I knew you could do it.” he whispers, wiping the tears off Simons face. They felt each others smiles radiate of their lips in smooth, lethargic bliss. “we should throw a fucking party.” Baz announces. “you don’t have to do that-“ “shut up, Simon.” he already had his phone in his hand, calling penny’s cell. “We are celebrating the shit out of this letter.” Baz held the phone by his ear as he took his boyfriend by the waist. Simon leaned his head against his shoulder in response, breathing him in. Baz smelled explicitly of Cedar and Bergamot today. “Hello? Penny? Guess who received an acceptance letter!?” He could feel Baz’s piercing smile in those words. Simon laughed in response.

-

She didn’t know it was going to end like this. or maybe she did. maybe she did all along and denied it. She knocked on the cottage door twice. she was sure she lost him. he probably tripped over some twig and lost her tracks. maybe. hopefully. A nervous energy filled her veins as she continued to rasp at the door until an old women by the age of 50 opened it. “Hello,” She greeted. The old woman continued to stare, bored. She shifted her arms so she could adjust herself to the weight of her baby, holding him close. The woman still continued in silence.

“M-may we please stay here for awhile? We don’t exactly have anywhere else to go.” She could feel her teeth clatter in hunger. or fear. Fear, she thought. Its always fear. Finally, the woman made the smallest gesture of glancing at her baby. the next thing she knew it, a closed door appeared in her face, inches away from the peak of her pale freckled nose. A sob escaped her as she continued walking off into the distance, the wail of her baby traveling with her in a soothing presence. She was sure she lost him. maybe. hopefully.

-

Its times like this when Simon Snow wakes up at 12:00am.

Times like this when he wakes to the sensation of arms around his waist. a body instead of space beside him. He wakes, sullen and drowsy. patches of blue and silver moonlight teem down the window panes. His eyes travel to where Baz’s head lays down in the cushions, peaceful and quiet. It was just 5 weeks into their relationship when Baz presented the thought of moving in with Simon and Penny just days ago.

Penny, god bless her, approved. Of course Simon approved as well. Hell, he may as well rent a place of their own if he could. It wasn’t official or any of that sort. But he knew they’d make it through that point. They made it through watford, anyway. If they could make it through that, Simon’s pretty sure they’ll make it through anything. He continued to gaze upon Baz’s sleeping figure. “you know what would be a great idea?” Baz had said just the day before.

”you could paint portraits. paintings. Just for a change.” Simon scoffed. they laid in the couch. He was busy sketching some pieces he thought of that day, cross legged beside Baz, who was reading a thick pretentious novel. “Nice one Baz,” “Well, no offence love, but you sulking around all day with nothing else better to do is an image we’re all tired of” He shrugged in response. “So what if i’ll start painting and make pointless portraits? What could i make of it? what would change anyway?” “well for instance,” Baz glanced at Simon’s sketchpad, a grin plastered on his face. he returned back to his novel. “Change is happening right now, Snow.” Simon shifted in their bedsheets. he wrapped his arms around the sleeping boy beside him. He’ll start painting tomorrow.

-

As luck would have it, She turned to the right direction after all.

Now all she has to do is wait for a car ride. The street before her laid bare and remote, as if no venichle has passed by since god knows how long. The baby she held in her arms grew silent and still. she looked at him, tracing a forefinger over his smooth rosy cheek. Her finger traveled down to his neck, where a tiny, indistinct mole lays there. His eyes were closed in tranquillised sleep, not a single worry or doubt in the world in those closed lids. She smoothed out his blanket, tugging it this way and that. It wasn’t far long ti’ll she grew helplessly weary. She settled herself on the edge of the curb, waiting for a miracle. Her knees felt like heavy rocks dragging her body down, and she couldn’t help but think of herself as a statue, numb everywhere, inside and out and at this point it was a marvel she could speak, a miracle she could so much as utter a single word. Her stomach growled. It was only when she pursed her dry sandpaper lips did she noticed how thirsty she was.

She looked at the baby in her arms, still asleep. Somehow, she held tighter. in that sweet, lullaby voice of hers, she cooed, “I’m going to love you so much, no girl would ever be good enough for you.” “But I do believe a girls going to love you so much. or boy. I wouldn’t care. As long as you love them and as long as they love you back just as much.” she reconsidered. “i’ll still love you the most though.” she nuzzled her nose in her baby’s neck. He smelled of smoke. Smoke and brunt trees. He smelled like everything she thought he would smell like. “I’ll always love you.” “And if by some larger force separates us,” she wrapped his tiny fist with her single finger. she squeezed. he squeezed back. “Then know that i’m always with you okay? know that i’m with you no matter what and nothing could change that. nothing.” The baby opened his blue eyes and as he did, a Camero’s headlights were headed their way.

Lucy jumped, standing up, balancing herself. The sudden movement made the baby wail. then she saw the plate number. Dread filled her system like a slow, creeping snake. Oh god. But it was too late to start running.

-

Baz knocked on Simon’s door again. And again. No answer. Only the sound of Simon’s obvious sobs, sobs he tired desperately to hide then. It was useless to keep them in, anyway. “Simon,” He didn’t know what he could possibly say. Assure him everything is okay? Tell him he’ll move on? Tell him lies, lies they both know would do nothing, nothing but display themselves ostentasiouly in the air once they’ve been said.

Baz was not one for lying. So he told him the truth.

“This isn’t okay. Your magic will never come back and we can’t do anything about that.” Inside the room, Simon grew deathly silent. From the living room, Penny shot him a treacherous glare that says what the fuck are you doing. Her eyes were gigantic plates and really, it was a marvel how she could manage to do that to her eyes. Still, Baz continued. “The mage is dead. Holes were made and holes were filled."

no response from inside the room. "Simon, love.” Baz was surprised when he heard a choking sound leave his lips. Even Penny grew silent for once. He tried his best to carry his now trembling voice, “You want the truth? Thats the truth. The truth is your the most alive being in the whole damn world. The truth is with your magic, you were fucking untouchable and I was scared Simon. You were the sun and i was crashing into you and the world revolved around you and it was like i couldn’t even reach you, it was like everything depended on you and i couldn’t possibly give you the satisfaction of knowing that i depended on you too. You were on the other side of the galaxy and you were so far away. The truth was i was so bloody scared Simon. The truth is with your magic, we would have never met in the middle.” He laughed at that probable thought.

“There was no fucking way.” Silence. “Simon,” Maybe he said enough? Maybe words were enough. it didn’t feel enough for Baz though. Simon’s own words were still echoing in his head, words that nearly shot him dead at the spot, words that were so untrue, words said with sharpened tips – “I don’t feel alive Baz! I was alive with my magic! I’m nothing without it and theres no fucking point to all this a-and I –” Simon wiped his eyes then. “I just want to feel fucking alive again!” That was when he stormed to his room and shut his door, locking it with heavy breaths and trembling shoulders, looking for all the world like a precarious, fragile thing. Baz softly says – though not that softly so Simon could hear him through the door – “Your so alive Simon Snow." He thought he heard the door click. He goes on, "You got my share of it.” Before he could even blink, Simon’s pink swollen lips collided with his and at that moment it was as if words didn’t matter. As if they never did.

-

“You can’t just take him!” Lucy Salisbury was desperate, yes, though she was also many things indeed. Angry. Furious. Confused. Determined. But Davy didn’t see any of this. Davy didn’t need to see any of this. He’s seen it a thousand times before, has seen desperation claw at peoples stomachs with hunger and the need to devour. He’s felt it a thousand times too, but now looking at Simon, looking at his blue eyes…maybe he finally completed it. Maybe he actually finally did it. The chosen one. Davy laughed. Its still hard to believe, even after all these months of waiting. “Give me my baby back you bastard!” Lucy screamed. She was pulled back, carried away by Davy’s men. She didn’t even know he had men. “Simon isn’t yours to take!” Sobs were leaving her like drool and she reached out with her arms towards her baby, she willed herself to reach out to Simon, and maybe she was close, maybe she wasn’t, but all she remembered was a blade, a sharp blade, a sharp and silver blade in Davy’s hands and she thought – No. He wouldn’t. He thrusted the blade into Lucy’s abdomen. And thank god it wasn’t her baby’s abdomen. She thought for a second there… But then the last thing ringing in her mind was the fundamental issue of Simon. Because even without that dagger in her boy’s stomach, she had that nauseating feeling that he wasn’t safe with Davy, blade or no blade. This was the last thought she could think of before The Mage willed the blade to go in for the kill. Simon cried all the way to the Camaro, where the Mage cooed and cradled him as if he were a loving father who’d never let go of his son.

-

Baz was told he would have to end him in some way.

Kill him. Maybe he could bite him, savour every drop of blood the notorious Chosen One has. He could place him in a stake. Burn him. Maybe he would do the classic blade in the chest move, or a spell powerful enough to end him. He was told he would have to end Simon Snow in some way. People have been telling him this since he was five years old, small enough to walk, but also small enough to follow what the adults say, no matter what that thing is, even if it meant theft or murder. as a result of this, he followed his instructions to kill the chosen one without question, followed it like a manual or a booklet. He kept it to heart and practised his spells to complete and utter perfection by the time he turned eight.

Because maybe then he could avenge his mother. Maybe then she’d come back to him. then, of course, the crucible paired Simon Snow and Basil Pitch together and that was when it all went downhill from there. It was summer. The second year of watford came to a bittersweet closure. All was well.

The family was doing good, everyone was healthy. The air in the dining room was alive with conversation with sparks of laughter here and there. Champagne glasses were being passed around like a game of hot potato and the chandeliers were sparkly and glistening, crystal and divine even amidst the sullen, medieval and almost melancholy structure of the Pitch’s mansion. He didn’t know when the conversation started, didn’t know when or how it turned to that direction, but the one thing he heard that day that got his attention was when his aunt, Fiona announced, “Simon Snow isn’t human." The fuck? Fourteen year old Baz raised an eyebrow. Perhaps joining one of these adult conversations would be a little fun. "Why do you say that?" All Grimm-Pitch eyes turned to him expectedly, as if Baz had something imposing to offer them. Fiona smiled that devil smile of her’s. "He was brought by the Mage. Everyone knows anything brought by that tyrant isn’t natural.” She took a agonisingly long sip of her red wine - she didn’t care for champagne – and pursed her lips in an effort to retrieve the sweet and bitter aftertaste.

With a feline grace she placed her glass back down on its coaster. Baz picked up his fork, thinking that that was the end of a lovely exchange of words, but when Fiona cleared her throat and faced towards him, he had the obvious sense that she was just getting started. “Simon Snow is a weapon, Basil. Name me one hero who wasn’t built for a single, certain purpose.”

Baz didn’t bother answering. Just get to the point, he wanted to spit out. “Exactly. After Simon completes that purpose, after he’s done saving the world of mages, lord knows what would happen next. A few celebrations, sure. Maybe even some cake and confetti. Then what? That’s the only thing separating us from heroes, Baz. They’re granted with a life purpose, we aren’t. We live ambiguously, they don’t. We have choices. Everything around us is a life choice. We get to be anything we will ourselves to be. But for people like Simon Snow?” She turned her head and grabbed her spoon, turning her ice cream around her glass like stew. “He’s a weapon. He’ll always be a weapon. Nothing will change that.” But if you could be anything, Baz thought. If you could be anything, then why do i feel like i have no other choice but to become the villain?

-

He almost felt bad for him. Almost. Besides, he was doing this for the greater good, so there was nothing to feel bad for, nothing to worry about. He could have had a childhood. This was Lucy’s voice. Or was it his own? You could have given him that. He could have been a normal mage with likes and dislikes. A normal boy who plays soccer, who plays in the rain and jumps in rain puddles. You had the power to do that. You could have presented that boy with choices. The Mage dismissed this voice. Simon wasn’t normal. Simon was the Chosen One. Who wouldn’t want to be the hero of their own story?

He was sure he left Simon here. Shame, maybe he could have placed him down in some other care home. Out of all the care homes it had to be the one with walls so old its ugly orange paint was peeling off around the corners. He could see mold around the space where the walls met its roof. The mage wrinkled his nose in disgust. It is possible that Simon may have learned the value of simplicity at least. Staying humble and all that. Though none of those trivial values mattered now. He went through the Chosen One’s schedule for the next week, listing off all the essential bits and all the least important ones. He’s going to need training. He’s going to need lots of training. And supervision. Perhaps he could be there for Simon ti’ll he gets the hang of the whole Chosen One business. He’s already planned it all. He’ll give Simon his wand — and what a powerful, experienced wand it is — and he could show him some tricks. He would give him special classes, explicitly for him. Next thing he’ll know it, he’ll be the saviour. The hero. He’ll be the Chosen One and save the whole world of mages. That is the hope anyway. Though people like Davy don’t rely on hope. People like Davy call hope goals.

They call goals objectives. People like davy see these objectives as check boxes ticked off by the second. So he adjusted his suit jacket. Looking over his shoulder, he gestured over to one of his men to come close. “Make sure Simon gets in the camaro once he gets out.” The gentleman nodded in response. History was in the making since the time Davy was in watford. Today, history is about to change.

-

Her mom told her that Simon Snow was dangerous.

Everyone tells her Simon Snow is dangerous. Soon, as Penelope Bunce has come to learn, she noticed everyones been telling her lots of things about the Chosen One. They tell her to be careful. To never go near him by the time she would enter Watford. They tell her that he is the most powerful mage to ever walk, and that his magic isn’t normal, that it isn’t contained. That he is a monster. One night, when she and her brother were trading ghost stories by the fireplace, he told her the story of the Chosen One and how he was sent by demons. She tried so very hard not to roll her eyes. The point was, Simon Snow came off as many things. Maybe it was because of her stubbornness, maybe it was because of how insistent she was on proving to everyone that Simon Snow was not what everyone declared him to be, or perhaps it was simply because she was intrigued of Simon even before she met him. Maybe these were all valid reasons as to why Penelope befriended him on the first day of watford, despite her family’s warning.

Thinking back to the past events, to every word her relatives have said about her friend, every lie and rumour, she couldn’t help but smile. She smiled because she knew she was right once again and that the rest were wrong: Simon Snow is not a monster.

She didn’t think he ever was.

They’re seated across from each other on the breakfast table. It was their fourth day here in Watford, and Penny was pleased to find out that she was already leading top of the class. Well, that is, if it weren’t for Baz Pitch, maybe she really would have been top of the class and not fall on second. Second sucks. According to Simon, Baz sucks as well. (It turns out not a day away goes by without Simon mentioning his roommate. Penny tries her best to stay inquisitive throughout these discussions with her friend, but most days the whole conversation gets too tedious.) Speaking of discussions, she wanted to lead today’s conversation towards a direction — literally any direction — that has nothing to do with Simon’s roommate, so before he even gets the chance to open his mouth, Penny says “You know, i’ve heard a lot of things about you. Even before I came to Watford.”  
Simon stared. This was an indication enough for Penny to continue. “Like how your the Chosen One and all that.”

The boy swallowed his cherry scone and almost as swiftly grabs another one. “Yeah, well, I am the Chosen one, so that figures.” Penny thought for awhile. “Why are you the chosen one though? Out of everyone?”   
“Because of my magic?”  
“how’d you get so much magic in the first place then? Your magic has to come from somewhere. Why would your parents leave you when they knew how much magic you contained?” She stopped herself from asking further questions.   
“Gosh, Simon I’m sorry. Was that too much?” Simon kept his eyes plastered on the cherry scone in his hands. His eyes betrayed no emotion.

“Thats fine Penny. I’m sure they had a reason though.” His voice sounded positive despite the subject of discussion, and that was the exact moment Penny knew this boy was nothing close to a monster. Simon Snow is just a boy. A boy with as many questions as she has. “Sometimes i like to think that my mom was a teacher. A really nice teacher who gives blueberry muffins to children who answer things correctly?” Simon dropped his scone, and the mere sight was a wonder to Penny’s two eyes. She decided it was best to encourage the conversation. “What would your dad be?” “He’d be a football player. Like as in, celebrity football player. He’s the one who wins all the trophy’s, that one player the team couldn’t win without. He’d be riding in a limo and everything and there would be light shining everywhere from the paparazzi.” He smiled, thinking of these concepts.

He knew it would do him no good to think of these things. But no one told him he couldn’t pretend. No one said pretending was bad. So he pretended. He pretended he was loved. He pretended he was wanted and cherished. He pretended he had a mom and a dad and a life. The next thing Simon feels is a hand on-top his shoulder. Looking back he see’s the Mage in all his glory.

“Simon, we’ve got work to do.” He had sounded so official, so down to the point. He also sounded like a leader, and the mage certainly dressed like it. Simon stood up. It was evident to Penelope that Simon wanted to be like the mage someday. She saw it in the way he looked at him, like the mage was some kind of statue he needed to replicate. As if the mage was the only person in the room who mattered to Simon. Like he was the only person who bothered to care. Simon left without question, leaving Penny looking dumbfounded and surprised. She knew that Simon Snow was just a boy, yes. What she does not know is if everyone could see that as well. Soon, she found herself hoping the mage out of all people could see that. Soon, she found herself by Simon’s side the next year, and the year after that, then the next year until her family had grown used of him, until they considered him family. Soon, she discovered that Simon no longer had one person in his life who cared. Then when Baz Pitch strides by, when she catches the way Baz glances at his roommate or the small moments like the way he sneers at him…it turns out she wasn’t the only one who cared.

-

They’re seated in the dinning room and Penny can’t handle it anymore. “Alright assholes tell you what, how bout i cook some fucking chicken and a steak. How bout that?” Baz snorted. “Theres no way you could do both. Besides, if someone wouldn’t be picky – " "Try me Picth i dare you.” “uh, language.” Both Baz and Penny stare at the boy cradling himself on the chair. Penny glared. “Excuse me?” “Well, you kept swearing, its bad for the baby.“ "well don’t you think its a little too late to—“ Penny stopped in her train of thought. Now its Baz’s turn to glare. He raised an eyebrow and politely, sarcastically asks, "What baby, Snow?" Simon smirked. "Im the baby, idiot. Hell if either of us could conceive don’t you think we’d be having a family of sixteen right –” Baz threw a spoon at his husbands face to shut him up, rolling his eyes in the process. “Your a disgust, Snow. And also I saw that post about the whole baby shenanigan joke in tumblr, so don’t think your so special.” He was surprised when he saw the look of hurt across Simon’s face. He was even more surprised when that hurt looked genuine. “Jesus stop pouting -” Penny cuts Baz off: “You have a tumblr?” Simon’s eyes immediately perked up at that concept. Baz could tell tonight was going be a very long, very agonising night. “Im sorry, my mind just can’t wrap around the idea of you having a tumblr.” Penny joked, one hand on her hip and the other leaning against the kitchen counter. Simon looked to Penny. “I bet he has a username like CountBasilton360.” She laughed at that thought. “No, no, no I bet he named himself BazzieTheVampireSlayer and has a profile picture of Drarry Fanart!” Baz stood up in the middle of all the laughter and the chaos and gladly excused himself to his and Simon’s room. He silently grabs his laptop to change his profile picture.

-

The veil is getting thinner by the second. I don’t know if i could reach you – but i did it before. I could do it again. it’s funny, last time i reached out towards you Davy stabbed me with a dagger. Theres no dagger this time, Simon. I’m safe here. My only wish is for you to be safe there. So i tear open the Veil – i could handle the consequences after. As luck would have it, you look happy. I see you seated in the dinning table with Natasha’s boy. I notice identical rings in both your ring fingers, and i shouldn’t be crying, but i cry anyway. Oh, Simon. Everything revolved around you. Chances are you wouldn’t have made it. But you look so happy … your smiling and your so bright and vibrant. I’ll love you the most, Simon. I’ll always love you the most. I wasn’t there to prove it — but I’m sure they will. The last image i get from you is you laughing with your eyes closed, arms around your stomach. And I’m sure your the most alive I have ever seen you. For once in my entire life, I stop fighting the veil and I let its cool breeze devour me.

~


End file.
